


Even If It Hurts

by bylethblaiddyd



Series: Private Lessons [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bathing/Washing, Collars, Creampie, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Has a Big Dick, Dom/sub, Dominant Byleth, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Knotting, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Spreader Bars, Squirting, Trans My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bylethblaiddyd/pseuds/bylethblaiddyd
Summary: Shortly after the Blue Lions reunite at Garreg Mach, Dimitri goes into rut. Byleth takes the opportunity to reconnect with his distant alpha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [即使疼痛](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21301220) by [RalitoEnSalaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RalitoEnSalaa/pseuds/RalitoEnSalaa)
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of a couple of Dimileth omegaverse fics I'm currently writing! The next one will to set before the timeskip and will be about starry-eyed virgin Dimitri getting some private lessons with Byleth :3c

  


Hours after evening prayer, Byleth left his personal quarters and made his way back to the cathedral. The guard on watch by the Officer’s Academy greeted him as he approached, holding a hand up to her mouth to stifle a yawn. He drew his cloak tighter around him as he gave her a silent nod in reply. The grounds were still busy even at this time of night, as more and more carpenters and craftsmen seeking shelter at Garreg Mach worked in rotating shifts to restore the monastery to its former glory. They paid Byleth little mind as he passed them by; before leaving his room, he took care to pull the hood of his cloak down low enough that it covered his bangs and cast a shadow on his face so no one would recognize him.

In Lady Rhea’s absence, many parishioners sought guidance from Byleth as one blessed by the goddess, no matter how many times he deferred to Seteth's seniority. That Byleth had disappeared for five years served only to strengthen their reverence upon his return. However many times he was asked about where he had been the past five years, there was no explanation he could give, no memories to recall. He had simply woken up to find that time left him behind. The parishioners’ speculation was more romantic--he had died and now he lived again, and perhaps the war would finally be able to end. Currently he had other matters to attend to, and would like to do so unnoticed.

The guard assigned to patrol the bridge tonight was nowhere to be seen, leaving Byleth to cross the silent crevasse that led to the cathedral with no light to guide him. He picked his way up the crumbled steps and pushed the heavy right door open with some difficulty, making sure the end of his cloak was through before allowing it to creak shut behind him. A deep thud echoed throughout the dark chamber, heralding his arrival.

All of the candles that were lit during evening prayer were already blown out by the draft. The only light came through the giant craggy hole in the center of the ceiling, opened up to the stars. Repairs around the rest of the monastery had taken priority over the past few weeks; the outer walls needed to be fortified, and accommodations needed to be expanded to hold more soldiers and the constant influx of refugees from the kingdom. The vaulted, ornate ceiling he remembered from his teaching days was gone, reduced to a mountainous pile of rubble collapsed onto the altar.

Byleth had little sentiment for religion, yet he could understand how deeply it troubled Garreg Mach’s parishioners that the heart of their place of worship continued to wallow in ruin and disrepair, and that it was now haunted nearly every night by the prince they thought half-mad. Just this afternoon at lunchtime, Byleth overheard a few villagers seated behind him at the dining hall gossiping about Dimitri’s erratic behavior. More than one murmured that perhaps it would have been better for the kingdom’s cause if Dimitri truly had been executed five years ago, He scared the common folk and the monastery staff, and while the kingdom’s soldiers had fought Imperial forces, Dimitri had turned Garreg Mach into a den of slaughter. They deserved better than to die for his bloodthirsty vendetta.

Their words weighed heavily on Byleth all day. Now he looked up to the gaping hole above the rafters to see the full moon was covered by thin, ghostly clouds. Then he looked ahead to the slabs of rubble and stone piled four meters high, and at the alpha slouched against them, curled under his fur-trimmed cape. Even from several rows of pews away, Byleth could smell the thick scent coming from Dimitri’s tense form, roiling with territorial aggression even as he slept.

Several people had come across Dimitri sleepwalking around the monastery at night, usually while he was on his way here to the cathedral. While it was nothing new that he often spoke in his sleep and had violent night terrors, these past few nights had escalated in severity to the point that the pages were afraid to carry out their nightly duties and even the guards refused to report to their posts until Byleth had promised to intervene tonight. Dimitri’s rut was due, and it was Byleth’s duty to find him another, more appropriate den for the duration.

“Dimitri,” Byleth called out softly, stopping a few feet away, “we need to talk.”

He could see part of Dimitri’s face sticking out from under the top fringe of his cape, and wasn’t surprised to see his lips were moving soundlessly from a bad dream. Byleth took a step forward and crouched down, making sure he was below Dimitri’s eye level before reaching forward to jostle his shoulder.

He leaned back in the nick of time as a large hand shot out from under the cape and grabbed for his neck, missing by a hair. An inhuman snarl sent thrills up the back of Byleth’s neck. He was careful to keep his gaze lowered as he straightened up, letting his eyes follow the cape as it fell from Dimitri’s body when the alpha sprang into a tense, guarded pose.

“You’re awake, Dimitri.” Byleth kept still even as Dimitri snarled a second time. “It’s me. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You,” Dimitri spat out, his voice ragged and raspy. He leaned forward, until he was so close that his hair tickled against Byleth’s cheek, and scented Byleth just to be sure he was real, as he said. Dimitri collapsed back onto the pile of rubble and rubbed at his eyes. Only then did Byleth straighten up and look at him head on, taking in the dust in his hair and the lines on his face when Dimitri pulled his hand away. “What are you doing here? Where . . . where am I?”

“In the cathedral.”

Dimitri’s head hung lower as he ran a gloved hand through the tangled knots in his hair. “Again,” Byleth heard him mutter bitterly. He looked up and glared at Byleth. “What do you want, then? I’ve always managed to make my own way back to the dorms when this happens.”

Byleth knew for a fact that Dimitri had not been sleeping in his old room at the student dorms, and instead had taken to secluding himself in Jeralt’s office whenever he wasn’t here at the cathedral. Neither Professor Manuela nor Professor Hanneman were all that pleased when they first reported it to Byleth, but Dimitri caused no trouble at night so long as no one else was there to disturb him. Professor Hanneman had suggested that perhaps they should barricade Dimitri into the captain’s quarters at night, only for Professor Manuela to chide him for such a cruel and insensitive suggestion--surely they could barricade him in the audience chamber instead, so he would have more room.

Byleth picked the cape up from the floor and draped it over his left shoulder. The thick, coarse fur was matted and filthy, and stank of blood as well as sweat. “You’re starting your rut soon,” he said. “It’s not wise to let you wander around like this. I want to--”

“Leave me alone,” Dimitri snapped. He got to his feet unsteadily, keeping a hand against the rubble for support. His foot scuffed his lance with a sharp clatter that rang through the cathedral.

“No,” Byleth insisted, keeping a careful watch on the way Dimitri tensed up as he approached, and set a hand on his thickly padded shoulder. “Let me help you. Please. After this week I’ll leave you alone again, if that’s what you want. But not during your rut.”

He was afraid Dimitri would ask him why, or reject him again. Instead he got no reply at all. Dimitri remained slouched against the rubble, so Byleth nudged him forward, and again until Dimitri relented. His scent remained heavy and dour as Byleth led him down the aisle between the pews and out to the bridge, and his anxiety grew more palpable the farther they walked away from the altar. He had spent five years here in isolation, defending the monastery from looters and Imperial soldiers. 

It hurt Byleth to think that he had been so close this whole time, sleeping in stasis right where he fell from the cliff during the siege of Garreg Mach. Whatever force kept him alive must have sheltered him from any form of detection, so Dimitri would not have been able to sense him even if he had the presence of mind to look. He had little doubt that the true scope of Sothis’s powers dwelling within him would continue to surprise him, now that they were merged and he no longer heard her voice. For the time being, he had no time to ponder; he didn’t need the power of a goddess to give Dimitri a bath.

\-----

  


The men’s bath was not entirely empty even this late. A handful of boisterous voices cut through the steam from the open air pool outside, echoing off the stone walls of the inner pool. Byleth kept a firm grip on Dimitri’s elbow, anticipating correctly that he would try to pull away upon realizing they were not alone. Not that it did Byleth any good--Dimitri broke away with ease and retreated to the large woven basket by the entrance, hanging back like a cornered dog. Byleth had already managed, with difficulty, to coax Dimitri into taking off his cape and armor before they entered the bathhouse, leaving them with the monastery page posted here tonight. The girl shook from head to toe as she held out her arms so Byleth could hand her Dimitri’s outer garments, piece by piece. Now all that was left was a threadbare tunic, loose trousers, and his eye patch.

“No one will bother us,” Byleth said, touching his upper arm again lightly. And again he kept his gaze lowered, looking at Dimitri’s collarbones rather than his face as he reached up for the eye patch. Dimitri gave a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the room, intensifying when Byleth pulled it aside.

“I won’t look,” Byleth said. He ran both of his hands through Dimitri’s long, tangled hair. He moved one hand lower, to Dimitri’s belt. This close, it was hard to resist the urge to rest his cheek against the alpha’s chest, to take in his scent and body heat and stimulate the scent glands on either side of his throat. Byleth would be lucky if he could just untangle Dimitri’s hair before the other bathers decided to get out of the water.

Dimitri’s hygiene hadn’t fallen completely by the wayside in their time apart; Byleth recognized the hints of cypress and lavender used in the monastery’s soap any time he and Dimitri crossed paths. His hair was the biggest problem. Without careful maintenance, it became tangled and matted, almost reminiscent of a bird's nest.

“This is a waste of time,” Dimitri muttered when Byleth slipped the belt off of him.. “And I can undress myself.”

“Yes, but I know you don’t want to.” Byleth moved around behind him. He tugged once, twice at the hem of his tunic, until Dimitri begrudgingly raised his arms enough to let it go over his head. Byleth folded the tunic over his arm, mostly to have an excuse to dawdle for an extra moment and look at the scars lashed across Dimitri’s muscled back. All these weeks later, Byleth still had difficulty adjusting to the fact that five years had been lost to him during what felt like a short nap. Even Dimitri’s body, once so slim and rigorously cared for, was unrecognizable. Byleth could only guess at the scars he might have on his chest.

“Stop staring,” Dimitri said, flinching away when Byleth absently ran a few fingers across his right flank. “Let’s just get this over with. Undress yourself.”

Byleth stripped and deposited his own clothes in the basket before joining Dimitri in the showers. The stalls were narrow, and Byleth felt uncomfortably cramped as he sidled in behind Dimitri and reached up to the pull the chain. There was a shelf with a misshapen bar of crude soap, supplied by one of the many craftsmen in exchange for lodging and shelter. Before the war, the soaps were of a finer make, no doubt to please the noble sons and daughters of the Officer’s Academy. Dimitri himself had often smelled of ambergris or mahaleb, which Byleth missed, and found it strange that he missed it. While growing up on the road with Jeralt, he never cared about such a thing.

The water from the pipes was cold, so Byleth worked quickly to scrub Dimitri and then himself down. Dimitri held still, not making Byleth’s task more difficult, though he didn’t move to make it any easier. Byleth stretched up on his toes to tilt Dimitri’s head back enough so he could scrub his hair, then work his fingers through a second time to gently work out the tangles and knots.

“Let me know if I’m pulling too hard,” he said, to no response. By his count it took over twenty minutes to get Dimitri’s hair in order, and he felt a swell of pride when the weak stream of water washed out the last of the soap and he could see how neatly the locks fell past Dimitri’s broad shoulders. “There. Much better.”

After rinsing off, he guided Dimitri to the thermal bath. Byleth slipped into the hot water after him with a full body shiver. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, and such thoughts were harder to keep at bay as the water made him drowsy. Beside him, Dimitri’s eyes were closed, and the tension in his body seemed to ebb away as Byleth watched. 

The scar on the right side of his face was mostly hidden by his long bangs, with only the tip slicing through his eyebrow up to his hairline visible. Byleth looked away after just a moment, wanting to keep his promise not to pry. Ingrid and Sylvain had asked a couple of weeks ago if Dimitri had told him how he lost his eye.

“If he wanted anyone to know, I would think he’d tell one of you first,” Byleth had said, and he’d meant it. 

“You really think that?” Sylvain replied, as Ingrid shook her head. “There’s a lot of stuff Dimitri keeps to himself, even from us. He’s not like that with you. Or at least, he wasn't.”

“We’re just worried about him, Professor,” Ingrid said. “If anyone can help him snap out of this, it’s you.”

Byleth sank lower into the water, until his chin dipped below the surface. Remembering what Dedue had said, after they learned of the Flame Emperor’s identity, he knew that there was probably no such thing as snapping Dimitri out his current state. There was no quick or easy or solution.

He was startled from his thoughts when Dimitri suddenly rose up and left. Scrambling to follow, Byleth had to brace himself against the edge of the pool as his head spun.

As they toweled themselves off, Byleth finally worked up the nerve to examine the front of Dimitri’s body, and felt his heart leap in his throat when he saw the gnarled, hypertrophic gash slicing across the right side of his chest from his hip to sternum. At its thickest the scar was with the width of Byleth’s wrist, and without the aid of magic it had healed imperfectly into a jagged mess.

“Ugly, isn’t it?”

Byleth blinked, and continued to dry him off. “No, I was just surprised...it looks like it came from an animal bite.”

“How very astute of you,” Dimitri said, though his harsh words lacked any bite from earlier. He sounded as tired as Byleth felt.

He didn’t elaborate, and Byleth didn’t press him further. They’d been in the bathhouse long enough that he was getting dizzy, and the night’s work had barely begun. He helped dress Dimitri before dressing himself, then led Dimitri by the wrist down the wide steps that let out by the training grounds. The clouds had shifted, allowing the moon to shine in full force. Byleth felt a tug of resistance when he made to head east, rather than south toward the dorms.

He looked back. Dimitri’s damp, tousled hair was brushed away from his face, and he hadn’t put his eyepatch back on, allowing Byleth to see the scar mangling the right side of his face. His eye was fixated on Byleth’s face, with the pupil blown so wide that only a thin rim of its blue iris was visible around it.

“Are we--you--not going to your quarters?” he asked haltingly, in a guarded and wary tone.

Byleth shook his head. “We need more privacy.”

“You mean to...spend my entire rut with me?”

“Of course.”

“Then where are you taking me?”  


\-----

  
Lady Rhea’s room looked the same as it always did, on the rare occasion when Byleth had need to visit. The only obvious changes were the extra blankets laid out on the settee and the large jug of water left on the vanity. No doubt Cyril had dutifully brought everything else Byleth had requested, and tucked it all away until it was needed.

He crossed the room and parted the curtains, pausing to look out over the moonlit monastery. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he noticed that the guards had finally taken their posts around the cathedral, now that it was empty.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Byleth pushed the window panes open just enough to allow a slight breeze in, then pulled off his shirt and began to slip out of his pants.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri asked, and there was a hint of his younger self’s modest naivete in his voice before it lowered into a possessive growl. He reached for Byleth, then jerked his hand back, clenching his fist at his side. “Get away from there! Come here.”

Byleth stayed where he was, turning around as he lifted his leg and let his pants slip down, so he was left standing before the open window in the nude. All except for the thin leather choker Jeralt gave to him so many years ago, after his first heat. _Watch your neck_, was all he’d said, and Byleth had thought nothing more of it until he came to the monastery.

“No, Dimitri,” he said, undoing the clasp and tugging the choker off, “you come here. Now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Byleth pushed the neat pile of blankets on the sette to one side and sat down, crossing his legs once he was settled. In response, Dimitri's scent spiked and filled the chilly air with his pheromones, laden with arousal. The alpha took a step in Byleth's direction.

"Stay," Byleth said, a warning more than a command.

Dimitri halted, glaring at him in indignation. He may have forgotten the rules, though Byleth could hardly blame him if that was the case. That was what they were here for, he reminded himself. Not just for pleasure.

"Sit," he said next, pointing down at Dimitri's bare feet. "On your knees."

"This is preposter--"

"Dimitri," Byleth interrupted smoothly, "_sit_."

And the prince sat, lowering himself down onto his knees with an unflattering scowl plastered on his face. The rut was putting him even more on edge than he had already been since Byleth found him here alone, surrounded by corpses; it would be harder to get him to listen while he was fighting against his instincts, though that also meant the payoff would be that much more rewarding. 

Byleth uncrossed his legs and slowly parted them, keeping an eye on Dimitri's face to gauge the prince's reaction as he brought a hand to his mouth. He licked two of his fingers from base to tip, moving his tongue around until they were wet, then pressed them to his clit and began rubbing in a small circle. Dimitri lurched forward on his knees, and Byleth was quick to stretch out a foot, firmly pushing against his shoulder to keep him at bay.

"I told you to _stay_," Byleth said, adding pressure until Dimitri sat back on his heels with a displeased huff. Byleth withdrew his leg, trailing his foot down the front of Dimitri's chest, then his waist, until he could press his heel against Dimitri's bulge. Dimitri let out a strained sound and rutted against the pressure with a short roll of his hips, almost involuntarily.

Byleth forced himself to move his foot away, even though he wanted nothing more than to let Dimitri rub helplessly against him until he had his fill, which would be impossible during his rut. Whatever relief an orgasm would bring this soon into the rut would be so fleeting it would simply make the urges worse. Byleth continued to languidly pleasure himself. "I won't give you a demerit this time, but after I explain the rules, each time you disobey me earns a demerit. Three demerits and you'll be punished. Say yes sir if you understand."

"...Yes, sir," Dimitri replied a dark, sullen voice.

"Good. The rules are: do not touch me without permission. Do not touch yourself without permission. Do not come without permission." Byleth moved his fingers down to his folds, spreading them so Dimitri could see the slick beginning to pool beneath him on the cushion. He pushed in a finger to the first knuckle, then dragged it out before pushing in again further. 

Dimitri's gaze fixated on Byleth's hand, hungry and desperate. "When you do have permission to touch me, you may slap, scratch, and bite me," Byleth went on. "You may mark me anywhere on my body except my throat. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dimitri responded, in a low gravelly tone that sent thrills across Byleth's skin. Good. He was still listening.

Byleth could vividly remember the first time he explained the rules to Dimitri five years ago, when the young alpha was eager to show Byleth around and help him feel at ease in the monastery's unique environment. It had been endearingly obvious he had a crush, and he had too much potential for Byleth to ignore or turn down.

For all his outwardly posture and initial modesty, Dimitri had taken to Byleth's rules with a fierce drive none of his previous partners had. The rules let Dimitri's base nature run wild, without any of the fallout a young untamed alpha would usually cause. Many would-be partners found Byleth's rules too stifling and restrictive, whereas Dimitri had found them freeing.

"Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?" Byleth asked, bringing his wet fingers back up to his clit.

Judging by the blank, impatient stare Dimitri gave him, evidently he did not.

"If you want to stop for any reason--if you're overwhelmed or afraid--say 'kyphon' and I'll stop. No demerits, no punishment, no questions. I'm doing this because I think it will help you through your rut. If it doesn't, I don't want you to go through with it just to please me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dimitri said, sounding a little less hostile than he did when responding earlier. Taking that as an encouraging sign, Byleth lifted one leg and set his foot on the edge of the settee.

"Good boy," he said. "You may touch me with your mouth."

Dimitri did not move right away. He peered up from behind his bangs to scrutinize Byleth's face, then back to the omega's wet, welcoming cunt. Whatever he was hesitating about ceased and he moved forward on his knees, lowering his mouth to lick at Byleth's slick-covered hand and then his clit, pushing his tongue between Byleth's fingers to greedily lick them clean. Then he moved down further to Byleth's labia. His warm tongue pressed against the sensitive folds, uncertain at first, then growing bolder and rougher. He placed a hand on Byleth's thigh, squeezing hard as he pushed his tongue in.

In an instant, Byleth had twisted a hand in his long smooth hair and yanked his head away, so sharp and sudden that Dimitri gasped from the pain.

"Get your hand off of me," Byleth said calmly, pulling Dimitri's head back further when he stayed put. "Now."

Dimitri bared his teeth and snarled, showing his teeth up to the gums. The sound was vicious and primal, so much that Byleth's omega instinct to obey his alpha overwhelmed him for a breathless moment. He managed to keep his grip on the prince's hair firm and unyielding, and shortly the discomfort overwhelmed Dimitri's anger at being separated from his prize. While not exactly obedient, he soon quietened down into a sullen, respectful silence.

"First demerit," Byleth said, releasing his hold. The long soft locks slid through his fingers and fell back into place against Dimitri's neck and shoulders. "I know you can listen better than that. If you're a good boy and do as I say, I'll give you a reward."

Byleth was tempted to go ahead and tell Dimitri what the reward would be--but no, while that often worked well in the past, Dimitri had never been in rut when they played these games before. It would be better to remain vague for the time being, at least until Dimitri proved he was capable of listening and being patient as his instincts gradually took over.

“Try again,” Byleth told him gently, guiding him back to position. He bit his tongue as he felt Dimitri’s lips trembling against him before the young alpha resumed his licking and lapping. His tongue pushed in deeper than before as he pressed his face so close that his nose pushed against Byleth’s neatly trimmed pubic hair, desperately trying to taste more of the omega’s wetness. Byleth moaned as his foot slipped off the sette. Dimitri took it as encouragement, so desperate that more than once his teeth scraped against Byleth’s flesh. He pulled back only to catch his stuttering breath.

Slick covered his chin and reddening lips. He swiped his tongue across his teeth and swallowed. Byleth shuddered at the sight. He was going to pat Dimitri's head, when he noticed one of the alpha's hands was pressed against the front of his trousers, clearly palming his erection.

With a sigh, Byleth stood up and went to the closet, where Cyril would have stored a woven basket of various supplies Byleth asked him to gather in anticipation of scenarios such as this. "Second demerit, Dimitri," he chided, pulling out a short length of rope. When he turned around he saw that Dimitri had at least remained by the settee, though not to heed Byleth's orders; he had one arm braced against the furniture as he stroked himself freely with his other hand, breathing in hard stuttering gasps.

"Stop," Byleth snapped, his patience wearing thin. Until now he had spoken gently, even when admonishing his prince. His whole life he had been told that he looked and sounded emotionless, even when he was happy or sad or frightened. Dimitri used to respect him all the same and not take him lightly. This blatant disregard hurt. "Put your hands behind your back. Now."

Dimitri lowered his head to the cushion and whined as he reluctantly obeyed, moving his arms so his wrists were crossed behind his back. He shook hard the whole time as Byleth tied his wrists together.

"That's better," Byleth said, pressing a knee into the small of Dimitri's back, until the alpha was leaned over the settee. "Do you understand what you did wrong?"

Dimitri said nothing. Byleth tugged his head back by the hair again, keeping his knee firm.

"Answer me. Do you know what you did wrong?"

Dimitri's reply was muffled. "....Yes, sir."

"You have one demerit left. If I have to punish you, you won't get a reward. Is that what you want?"

"No, sir."

Byleth tugged his head back. "I can't hear you. You must want me to punish you."

"No, sir!" Dimitri said louder, turning his head to the side, so he could look at Byleth with his good eye. "I-- I want--"

"You want to fuck me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to fill me up with come, Dimitri? Breed my pussy, claim it as yours?" He dug his knee in deeper against muscle and bone. "Do you want to ruin me for any other alpha?"

"Yes, yes, goddess!"

"Shut up."

Dimitri's babbling ceased in an instant. He was shaking harder than ever under Byleth's knee, licking desperately at the slick on his lips. The look in his eye was crazed and ravenous, desperate to have the omega near him in his grasp.

"Get on the bed. Lie on your back and wait for me." Byleth pulled away and stepped back a few paces, watching and waiting. Dimitri struggled to his feet, swaying momentarily before moving to the bed and lying down as Byleth asked. As expected, he looked extremely comfortable with his hands bound and his erection straining against his pants.

Byleth was deliberately slow as he returned to the closet and searched for the vial of special oil he'd requested. In addition to that he grabbed a belt and a small glass plug, then joined Dimitri on the bed. He threw a leg gracefully over the alpha's broad waist, settled his hands on his scarred chest, and rolled his hips to grind lightly against his cock. Dimitri's mouth twisted as he gasped. To Byleth's delight he remained silent otherwise, even as sweat beaded on his flushed face.

"Good boy. You're remembering quickly." Byleth pressed a kiss to the side of his throat. His scent gland was swollen from the rut, so Byleth nipped at it lightly. Dimitri grunted, then caught himself and kept quiet while Byleth kissed and nipped him a second time.

"Very good," Byleth murmured, pressing a kiss to his tense jaw. "You may move your hips."

Dimitri rutted up against him frantically, meeting Byleth's slow deliberate movements with reckless thrusts. Like this Byleth was reminded of how frighteningly strong Dimitri was, as he felt every muscle in the prince's body flex and contract in his single-minded mission to subdue and breed the omega holding him down. Byleth raised himself onto his knees and reached for Dimitri's trousers, pulling his cock free and rubbing against it with his clit. Slick and precome mingled until the length of Dimitri's thick cock was wet, and Byleth himself couldn't stand to wait any longer. He guided Dimitri until the blunt head was at his entrance.

"Fuck me," Byleth said, breathless from anticipation. The words had barely left his mouth when Dimitri thrust up against him. 

Byleth sat upright, despite his own instincts begging for him to continue nuzzling against his alpha and breath in his musk. He felt stretched past a comfortable limit, though that was always the case given Dimitri's girth. To him, it had been scarcely two months since the last time he and Dimitri slept together.

He rubbed his clit again, letting himself moan wantonly as his alpha's cock filled him. "Good boy, just like that--ahh!" he moaned, and Dimitri fucked into him even harder.

His voice shook with every thrust, and their skin slapped wetly as more of his slick coated Dimitri's cock and pooled between their thighs. The scent more than anything was intoxicating as Dimitri's rut strengthened.

"Touch me," Byleth ordered, grabbing a fistful of Dimitri's hair again and keening when Dimitri sucked at one of his nipples, then bit into the sensitive flesh with his oversized canines. He rammed into Byleth with short, frenzied thrusts, seeking nothing but his own release. Byleth moved his hips forward, hissing as the fat cock slid from his cunt and jabbed against his thigh.

"Not so rough," he said, smoothing back Dimitri's sweat-matted bangs before kissing him on the mouth, feeling the sharp canines with his tongue. "You'll hurt my hips like that, and we have a long time until your rut ends. There's no hurry."

"Professor," Dimitri gasped, rubbing his cock against Byleth's ass, "I--"

"Hush. Try again."

Byleth's breath hitched as Dimitri roughly pushed back inside. He braced his hands against the headboard and steadied his breathing, intending to let Dimitri have his fill for a moment.

"Ahh, professor," Dimitri panted, voice falling into an even deeper timbre, "professor--!"

Byleth hissed, unable to form a proper reprimand. He closed his eyes, moaning as a particular thrust sent a thrill of pleasure coursing through him like a lightning spell. In that momentary lapse, he didn't notice Dimitri had broken out of the restraints until he felt a large hand grab his ass and teeth sink into the side of his throat. 

Seconds later, Byleth felt Dimitri's knot swell inside him. He couldn't move as Dimitri wrapped an arm around his back, anchoring him in place as the knot stretched him out more and more until it seemed as if it would tear. He felt separate from his body, the pleasure so immense that it burned itself out into a distant haze, and all he could grab onto was smoke. He felt the rumble of Dimitri's possessive growl as if it came from within himself. He felt Dimitri's nails claw into the pert flesh of his ass, marking it as he came over and over.

Byleth felt the teeth pull free from his skin and the warm, wet press of Dimitri's tongue as he licked at the blood. Byleth whimpered as the bonding hormones took hold, and more of Dimitri's seed continued to fill him. This was what he thought of on the battlefield, whenever Dimitri left his sight and Byleth wished he had another way to sense whether he was safe. More than once he found himself idly thinking about the future, whether Dimitri was already betrothed to an omega from one of Faerghus's noble houses. Thoughts that never bothered him when he bedded a mercenary on the road or one of the knights at the monastery always seemed to be on his mind after he and Dimitri grew closer. 

This--Dimitri claiming him, knotting him, sucking at his small breast while murmuring in the afterglow about love and pups and protection--this was what Byleth wanted, before the siege of Garreg Mach. And it was the one thing he knew now that he shouldn't have.

He let Dimitri pull him down into a tight embrace. He let Dimitri nip along the softness of his breast and graze his nipple with his teeth. Even after Dimitri's knot subsided and nothing was forcing them together, he let Dimitri nose along the fresh claiming mark and scent him until his breathing evened out and the prince fell into a shallow, drowsy daze.

Half an hour later, Byleth sat up and touched the bite on his throat, then the smaller ones on his chest and shoulder. Pain lanced through his body, the worst of it from his neck and hips. When he moved, he felt the come leak from his abused cunt. He looked at the glass plug, dizzily considering whether he ought to use it before any more of Dimitri's come could go to waste.

What the hell was he thinking? Byleth smacked his own cheek, trying to refocus on the task at hand. Dimitri's arm around his waist tightened at the sound, and he raised his head to blink at the omega. "Byleth . . . ?" he asked blearily, the look on his scarred, timeworn face a bit softer from the scent bonding, reminiscent of the Dimitri that Byleth remembered.

Byleth shoved his arm away, and reached down to the belt he'd left at the foot of the bed. "Third demerit," he said, slapping the belt against his open palm. "So. You _do_ want to be punished."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Dimitri beefed it.
> 
> 2) Cyril had to gather a lot of sexual accoutrements for Byleth and he absolutely does not know or care what all of it is. I think he'd mostly be miffed that Byleth asked to use Lady Rhea's room. Byleth is very sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

Byleth sat on Dimitri’s chest, spreading his legs so his knees could keep the prince’s strong arms pinned down. He knew full well that if Dimitri so desired, he could break free without a second thought. Currently the prince was still in the contented daze of his afterglow. He watched Byleth bring the belt closer, not seeming to mind it until Byleth pushed a hand under his head and lifted it off the pillow, so he could loop the belt under his hair.

“What--?”

“This is for biting me,” Byleth said, letting his head fall back. He pushed the end of the belt through the buckle and pulled, going slow so the metal wouldn’t hit Dimitri’s teeth. “If you want to say kyphon, tap me three times. Open your mouth.”

Dimitri was staring down his nose, trying to look at the belt being tightened around his face. Byleth yanked up with a short, smart tug. “Open,” he repeated, until he was able to pull the belt taut. “Bite down.”

Biting down was all Dimitri could do as Byleth pushed the buckle in place. He leaned back, so that the prince could see the mess he’d made of his pussy. “Bad boy,” he said, holding the belt down firmly so Dimitri couldn’t raise his head off the pillow as he gnashed his teeth and groaned at the sight.

Byleth moved, turning around so that he was facing the door instead of his alpha. He picked up the glass vial of oil and popped the top off, then let it trickle down to Dimitri’s half-hard cock. It twitched as the oil made contact, and behind him Byleth heard a sharp grunt.

“It will warm up once I work it with my hands,” Byleth assured him, tilting the vial so it poured out in a thicker stream. “So, show me how well you can listen if you don’t want it to stay cold, hm?”

Dimitri’s thigh muscles contracted as his legs jerked up. It was a pity that he couldn’t be tied down and restrained as Byleth would have liked; he had no doubt that attempting to do so would only end with the posts of Lady Rhea’s bed frame ripped apart.

“Be still,” Byleth said, and slowly Dimitri’s legs stopped moving against the sheets. His chest rose and fell in short, strained bursts underneath Byleth as the omega took his cock in one hand and poured more oil. Byleth set the empty jar aside and pressed the flat of his palm down against the glans, circling slowly and deliberately. “Don’t make a sound. This is still your punishment, Dimitri.”

The oil was so slippery and viscous that at first there was hardly any friction when Byleth stroked down the shaft with one hand, twisting his hand as he did so. Dimitri’s cock was so long that it would take two hands at once to cover. For now Byleth used just one, keeping his other hand at the base. Try as he might, Dimitri was unable to stay completely silent or still. His legs jerked when Byleth gradually began to pump faster, and a ragged moan escaped around the belt.

Byleth held both hands up, ignoring the low whine that erupted behind him. He said nothing, only kept his hands up until the whining died down and Dimitri straightened his trembling legs out again.

“Good,” Byleth said, and now he used both hands, switching from one to the other every time he stroked up. The cool oil began to warm up between their skin as he worked. “This isn’t so hard, is it? Do as I say and I’ll make you feel good. The rules are simple.”

He moved his left hand back to the base of Dimitri’s cock and squeezed as he continued to stroke with his right hand. Dimitri arched up underneath him, bringing them both off the mattress for a second. Byleth took his hands away and this time Dimitri stayed quiet when he fell back into place.

“Just like that. You’re being so good for me, Dimitri.” Byleth put his hands back where they were and continued stroking. “I know it’s hard to listen during your rut, but I need you to try. This is for your own good.”

The side of his neck stilled throbbed from the claiming mark. It would take a week or two to fade; it was fortunate that Dimitri had not bitten Byleth while he was in heat, or else a bond would have formed. The last thing either of them needed to worry about during a war was bonding--afterward, though . . . what then?

Byleth wiped his bangs back with his left wrist, gritting his teeth. He was too distracted tonight. All it would take was another momentary lapse of concentration and Dimitri might bite him again, or worse. There was still the likelihood of Dimitri sleepwalking or having a night terror over the course of the next few nights.

“Do you remember the time you were able to let me do this for over five minutes before coming?” he asked; talking seemed to help him keep his mind grounded. “Answer yes or no.”

Dimitri made an indecipherable sound.

“Yes or no?”

“No, sir.”

“I see...it’s alright if you don’t. Maybe we’ll do it again.” Byleth only said it to be mean; he could taste Dimitri’s impatience in the air, as the short reprieve from his orgasm was long over and done with and his rut was in full swing. Next he picked up the glass plug. It looked somewhat like a thin, elongated egg that spanned the height of Byleth’s palm, with a flared handle at the base with a ring.

“Bend your legs,” Byleth told Dimitri as he rolled the plug in his hands, until it was coated and dripping. He pressed his middle finger to Dimitri’s ass, sitting firm when Dimitri bucked up in surprise. “Be still.”

He pressed a second finger in; so much slick and come and oil had dripped down Dimitri’s cock and perineum that it was wet enough. The only issue was the tightness, made worse by Dimitri’s reluctance. Byleth crooked his fingers, feeling as the abdominal muscles beneath him tightened, as Dimitri forced himself to do as he was told and not squirm.

“If you had behaved, I was going to use this on myself,” Byleth said as he withdrew his fingers and pressed the tapered tip in instead. “I let you fuck me once when I had this in, remember? You couldn’t get enough of it.”

Dimitri’s back arched when Byleth pushed the entire plug in with one smooth, relentless movement. He crashed back to the bed writhing, and spitting incoherently around the belt.

“Does it hurt?” Byleth asked, patting his thigh. “Good. Now be still.”

Byleth wrapped a hand around Dimitri’s thick cock again and pumped it faster than before, giving a gentle tug every time he stroked up. He squeezed the base of Dimitri’s cock with the thumb and first two fingers of his left hand, just below where his knot would swell. “You may move your hips.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Dimitri began to thrust up so hard that Byleth almost lost his balance. He had to take his left hand away for a moment to brace himself against the mattress, as Dimitri fucked up into his other hand. Byleth righted himself and squeezed the base of his cock again, letting the prince have his fill.

He reached below Dimitri’s balls to hook a finger through the plugs handle, pulling it out just a bit then pushing it back in. The sensation disrupted Dimitri’s rhythm, causing him to squirm and stutter.

“Not so fast,” Byleth said. “Wait until I give you permission to come.”

He resumed stroking, making sure to squeeze the base again. Dimitri bucked up in unsteady thrusts, his rhythm gone as his movements became pleading rather than demanding.

“Careful,” he murmured, slowing his strokes again, “not yet.”

Dimitri began to whine so quietly that Byleth didn’t hear it so much as feel it. He moved his hands away again and drummed his fingers against Dimitri’s thighs when his whining got louder. “Just a little longer,” he said, enjoying the way Dimitri squirmed. “Settle down, Dimitri. I know you can do it.”

When Dimitri shoved up against him harder, heedless of the warning, Byleth pulled his hands away again. “Be still.”

“No, please, please--” Dimitri’s pleading was muffled by the belt.

“Just breathe.” Byleth tugged on the plug, until it was almost entirely out, then pushed it back in, listening closely for the sharp intake of Dimitri’s breath. He twisted the plug, pulling it out and pushing it back in again slowly, keeping one hand close to Dimitri’s dick but not touching it. He let go of the handle, and watched as Dimitri’s body pulled in the plug on its own. “Very good. Now, I want you to start counting. If you can make it to two minutes, I’ll let you come.”

He took Dimitri’s cock in his hands again, stroking at a leisurely pace, sometimes using both hands, sometimes alternating from one to the other with every stroke upward or downward. Dimitri’s counting was so quiet it was mumbled and unintelligible.

“Louder,” Byleth said, “or I’ll change it to five minutes.”

Dimitri choked out, “Twenty-six,” and Byleth rewarded him with a kiss to the glans. He licked the head, arching his back so his ass and cunt would be on display, right in front of Dimitri’s face. He licked his lips and continued to stroke, even as his wrists began to cramp. 

Byleth could tell Dimitri was close when his knot began to swell around the one-hundred second mark. “Almost there. Do you want to come?”

Dimitri growled, thrusting up in response as he growled out, “One hundred...nineteen.”

“Very good. You may come.”

And Byleth pulled his hands away.

Dimitri screamed around the belt as he came untouched, his thick cock bouncing with the force of each spurt of come. The first few reached Byleth’s stomach, until dying down into smaller, more sporadic releases, filling a space that wasn’t there.

“That’s for coming without permission,” Byleth said coldly when Dimitri’s wailing died down. He pulled on the glass plug’s handle and set it aside, then turned around again so he could remove the belt. He relished the deep flush across Dimitri’s cheeks and down to his scarred chest. “You did better this time. Keep it, and you may knot me again. Break the rules again and the next punishment will be harsher.”

He unbuckled the belt and pulled it out from under Dimitri’s head, then let it drop to the floor. Deep teeth marks were punctured through the leather. He cupped Dimitri’s flushed face, pulling back when he remembered it was still coated in oil, and settled it on his chest instead. He kissed Dimitri’s mouth, and again when Dimitri clenched his teeth and kept his lips still.

“You’re on your way to your first demerit,” Byleth murmured, pecking him on the nose. “Let me kiss you.”

Dimitri’s eye fixated on him angrily. The bangs on the right side of his head were brushed aside, so that his scarred eye was visible. Underneath the scars and edges there was little left of his bright cheerfulness from before Byleth disappeared. Five years without affection or companionship would have driven Byleth mad.

Relenting, Byleth instead pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then nosed against the scent gland on his neck. Dimitri’s rut scent had a pleasing bite to it, like incense. He nibbled at the skin, stimulating the gland and causing Dimitri to stiffen underneath him. Before too much longer Dimitri relaxed a tad, and his frustration at having his orgasm ruined subsided just a bit.

The lingering alpha resentment wouldn’t entirely be sated until he came again, and properly. That was always what made playing during a rut so testy--even the most subservient alphas Byleth had been with always became much more irritable and domineering. And none of them had inhuman strength with which to contend.

Byleth moved onto his side, tugging Dimitri to follow him, until he was on his back and Dimitri was above him. Dimitri’s cock rubbed against his cunt, and Byleth bit on his tongue when he felt the firm knot and shot of come against him.

“You may scent me,” he said, and after a moment of deliberation added, “and fuck my thighs.”

Dimitri pushed his legs back with a rough shove, until both of Byleth’s knees were touching his left shoulder. Byleth obligingly held the back of his legs so Dimitri could grab hold of his thighs and push them together, so when he shoved his cock through the slickness near Byleth’s cunt the tightness was just enough to prevent his knot from going through. He rutted against the flesh, pushing so hard that Byleth felt he was going to be drilled through the headboard. He set his feet against Dimitri’s chest and pushed back.

“Ah, ah,” he panted, feeling his legs tremble against Dimitri’s strength as the alpha resisted, “not so hard. Continue.”

Dimitri turned his head and licked along Byleth’s toes. Byleth gasped and lost his footing, and Dimitri crouched down and fucked against him even harder than before. His knot rubbed against Byleth’s clit, over and over.

Byleth tilted his head back and Dimitri responded, biting at his lower lip before slipping his tongue in.

Dimitri had always been averse to kissing even before the war--he didn’t like having his face so close to someone else’s, and not being able to see whatever was being done to him. Doing this after whatever happened to his eye was a big step, in Byleth’s opinion.

“Come for me,” he demanded, digging his nails deep into the back of Dimitri’s neck and the meat of his shoulder. Dimitri lowered his head, panting against Byleth’s collar bones as he fucked between his thighs a few more times. His upper canines glinted in the moonlight as he snarled, 

When he came again he did so silently.

His knot was still swollen from the last time, and there was less ejaculate than before. When he collapsed on top of Byleth it felt like being crushed by a small boulder. Byleth rolled his hips, grinding his clit against Dimitri’s twitching cock.

“Good boy,” he said breathlessly, nuzzling against Dimitri’s hair. He could feel the alpha’s heart pounding between them. “Very good. What do you say?”

Dimitri muttered something foul against his breast.

“First demerit.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dimitri said, his voice hoarse. His arms caged Byleth on either side.

Byleth kissed the top of his head, then tilted his chin back so they were face-to-face. “Now, why don’t you clean up your mess?”

Dimitri’s jaw tightened.

“You don’t want to?” Byleth grabbed Dimitri’s chin and jerked his head up. “Do you think you’ve earned the right to mark me as yours, Dimitri?” 

He got a flash of teeth and gums in response. Dimitri’s upper canines were large even for an alpha, and when Byleth ran a thumb up the length of one he felt like it might slice his skin as easily as a dagger. “Get to work,” he said, staring Dimitri down, right in the eye, until the alpha broke contact and settled himself down further on the bed. “And another thing--keep your hands where I can see them.”

Dimitri gave him one final glower before opening his mouth and grazing the inside of Byleth’s thigh with those impressive teeth, nipping at him in several places and running his tongue over the stinging skin, licking up sweat and slick and his own semen.

“I know you’re stalling, Dimitri,” Byleth said, smiling sweetly when Dimitri looped one thick arm around each of his thighs and finally acquiesced. He lapped against the wet mess trickly from Byleth’s cunt, until his tongue was white and he had to swallow. He threw Byleth a dirty look, then continued licking.

For a few minutes, Byleth entertained the idea of making Dimitri make him come, and decided not to agitate the alpha any further for the time being. They would be here for several days, and it would be best to pace himself rather than be worn out on the first evening. Even Dimitri’s normal amount of stamina was, frankly, terrifying, and Byleth simply could not anticipate how his rut would affect it.

So instead he let himself let his guard down enough to enjoy the steady rhythm of Dimitri’s tongue; he couldn’t let himself doze off, but he did allow himself to relax enough that he began to purr. The sound affected Dimitri’s scent, so that it grew just a tiny bit sweeter. Byleth groaned when Dimitri finished, much sooner than he would have liked, and settled down on top of him, with his head on Byleth’s chest.

Byleth ran a hand through Dimitri’s hair, and stopped fighting to keep his eyes open.  


\-----

  
He woke some time later to find himself still pinned down by his heavy sleeping alpha. The air in the room was chilly from the open window; Dimitri’s body heat was running high from the rut, so Byleth felt comfortably warm beneath him. He lay still for a few minutes, listening to Dimitri’s breathing for any sign of discomfort or disturbance. Once or twice Dimitri jerked and mumbled, but whatever dream he was having didn’t seem to be a bad one for the time being.

Taking care to move gently, Byleth pried himself out of bed and pulled down the fleece robe Cyril left hanging for him on the back of the closet door. He crossed the hall and stepped out onto the balcony. The clouds had dispersed over the past few hours, leaving the moon in full view. Without Dimitri’s warmth the cold air got to Byleth quickly; his teeth were chattering by the time Cyril arrived with a tray of tea, porridge, and sweet buns.

“You didn’t have to wait out here,” Cyril said as he hurried over to set the tray down on the stone bench. He handed Byleth a bowl of porridge, which Byleth scarfed down as Cyril poured him a cup of tea.

“It’s--” Byleth was going to say safer, and decided against it. “It’s fine. I don’t mind the cold.”

Truthfully the cold was horrible, considering he had no blood circulation. It was a small price to pay to keep Cyril away from Dimitri when he would be feeling especially territorial, even if Cyril was a beta.

“Uh-huh,” Cyril said, sounding unconvinced. He stirred in some honey and held out the cup. Byleth scraped up a last spoonful of porridge and handed him the empty bowl, then gulped the tea down so fast he could hardly taste it. “Are you sure you don’t want a guard nearby, in case he goes berserk?”

“I’m sure,” Byleth said. “Having someone outside the door will agitate him. As long as you and Shamir are on the second floor, that should be enough.”

He didn’t miss the way Cyril squinted at the bloody bite on the side of his throat. The mark still throbbed, though it certainly looked worse than it felt. “I’ll take the rest to him,” Byleth said, picking up the tray. “Thank you, Cyril. If we need anything else, I’ll tell you when you come by again.”

“Sure . . . if you’re still in one piece,” Cyril replied.

Byleth couldn’t help but laugh. “You underestimate me, Cyril. I have everything under control.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update--I was also writing a couple of short extra scenes that have now been added to the previous chapter.

When he returned to Lady Rhea’s room, Byleth paused in the half-open doorway for a moment to reacclimate to the heady pall of alpha pheromones. Even with the window open, Dimitri’s scent filled the close quarters, marking every nook and cranny as his. Bringing him here, rather than taking him to Byleth’s personal quarters, seemed to be the right choice. Not only was he isolated from other alphas, Lady Rhea’s room was an unused territory that no one else would need, unlike the cathedral.

There were still plenty of renovations left to do here in the tower--Cyril had been anxious to restore the furniture, rather than replace it altogether, and even offered his own bed until Byleth convinced him that would not be necessary. Severals carpenter pitched in their skills to repair or build the chairs, bed frame, and dresser. Unfortunately for Cyril, Byleth was certain now that instead of preserving Lady Rhea’s space for her return, for the time being they should let Dimitri settle in.

Dimitri’s hulking form under the duvet shifted when Byleth let the door shut behind him. Other than that, he seemed to still be in a lull, in no hurry to go another round just yet. Byleth was so cold from waiting on the balcony for Cyril that he could hardly feel the tray in his hands as he set it carefully on the vanity before pouring another cup of tea. He crossed the room to the tall arch window and pulled the shutters close, then drew the heavy curtains together.

“Are you awake, Dimitri?” he asked, loosening the belt of his robe as he approached the bed. With the window closed, all he could see in the low candlelight was the rise and fall of his alpha’s breath. Receiving no reply, he sat on the edge of the mattress and carefully pulled the duvet back until he could see Dimitri’s broad, scarred back; his head was buried under one of the pillows. The alpha flinched at the cold air, and a low growl started up from under the pillow.

“Here, this will settle your nerves.” Byleth lifted the pillow up next and briefly struggled to keep a neutral face when Dimitri glared up at him from under his messy tangle of hair. Like this, Dimitri reminded him of one of the many stray cats around the monastery who hung near when Byleth brought them food, then were quick to hiss at him once their bellies were full. “I asked Cyril to add an analgesic, in case you have a migraine. Do you feel alright?”

Dimitri buried his face back into the mattress and ignored him. Byleth decided not to push him for the time being; Dimitri would just have to drink cold tea later if he changed his mind. Byleth set the cup aside on the nightstand, then returned to the closet. He wanted nothing more than to curl up against Dimitri to warm up his icy hands and feet and had to actively fight against those instincts as he deliberated on what items to use next.

As he suspected, the rope wasn’t strong enough to restrain Dimitri, and using metal restraints during his rut was too risky to even try. There were several other glass plugs, of different sizes and shapes, and a horse bit he didn’t want to use, but would need to if Dimitri tried to claim him again. Cyril had also included medicinal herbs, salves, and cloths, stubbornly insisting on them even when Byleth argued his healing magic would be enough for any situation that might warrant it.

Byleth touched a hand to the dried streak of blood on his neck, frowning as he felt the energy build up in his palm before spreading across his skin. Maybe Cyril had a point after all. In the heat of the moment, using magic to heal the wound or clean the blood so the smell wouldn’t provoke Dimitri further hadn’t occurred to him. Then again, neither had the salves or bandages. Perhaps he wasn’t the right person for this job after all…

He chose the horse bit and another vial of oil, and put them on the settee while he looked through the other items. No, he wasn’t annoyed at the thought of Dimitri spending his rut with another omega--absolutely not. It wasn’t his job to be annoyed or distracted. It was his job to soothe Dimitri and help channel the aggression of his rut, in a way that would hopefully not end with Lady Rhea’s new bed frame in splinters.

When he had gathered everything he needed, Byleth hung the robe back on its hook and sifted through the extra blankets and clothes on the settee. One of the tunics was clearly meant for Dimitri; when Byleth pulled it on over his head the collar slipped off one of his shoulders, and it hung down to his mid-thigh. The sleeves dangled over an inch past his fingertips.

The tunic smelled fresh and clean enough, though it was possible that there could be lingering pheromones he couldn’t detect that an alpha in rut certainly would. Byleth brought the sleeves up to his face and rubbed them against his cheeks, then the scent glands on his throat. The fabric was softer against his skin than he expected; someone must have donated one of their personal, finer made garments, and he pressed one of the sleeves against face harder than before, afraid that Dimitri might catch a whiff of Seteth or Alois through the faint smell of soap.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri's groggy voice asked behind him. Byleth turned to see he was unearthing himself from the pillows and rubbing at his scarred right eye. His nose twitched as he looked around in the dim light. “What’s that smell?”

“Sweet buns. Are you hungry?”

Already knowing the answer was yes, Byleth brought a plate of the buns to the bed, alongside the plugs and other items, which Dimitri seemed to either not notice or simply ignore. He ate three buns in a row, mashing them into his mouth one after the other and hardly seeming to chew before swallowing. After the last one was gone, Byleth again offered him the tea. This time Dimitri took it, and downed it in one gulp. His expectation and impatience was palpable, and grew stronger when Byleth left the bed again to set the cup and plate back on the tray.

"What is this?" Dimitri asked when Byleth returned. "This had better be for you."

He was scowling down at a short bar with a leather cuff attached to either end. It was something Byleth never used with Dimitri before, though it had been a favorite of his while on the road during his mercenary days.

“It is for now,” Byleth said mildly. "You never know what the future may hold."

Dimitri ignored what he was implying and asked, “Do you put your hands in it?”

“You can, but that’s not generally how I use it.” Byleth was pleased that Dimitri was taking an interest, even if it was out of suspicion rather than curiosity. When he sat on the bed he pulled his knees up to his chest, then guided Dimitri’s hand, and the bar, down to his ankles. He moved his legs, so Dimitri could see just how wide the bar would hold them in place once he was in the cuffs.

“Oh,” Dimitri said, his voice dropping low, coasting just above the alpha register, “I...I see.”

“I was going to save this for later, but I’ll put it on now, if you promise to behave. How does that sound?”

“Byleth,” and Dimitri’s voice dropped further, dark and deep as the crevasse, “I’ve had enough of your stupid games. If you present to me with this--thing--then I will mount you and breed you so hard the gatekeeper will be able to hear you begging for my knot from the other side of the monastery."

As he spoke, Dimitri leaned in so close that Byleth felt engulfed by his body heat. His temperature felt like it must be well past the threshold for a fever. More than anything Byleth wanted to say yes, and let Dimitri pummel him into the bed, until the entire monastery was woken up by the sound of him giving into the pleasure. 

But that wasn’t why he was here. So he said, with more difficulty than he would have liked, “Second demerit.”

"To hell with your demerits! Do you want me to fuck you or not?"

Byleth pulled away. His feet brushed the cold floorboards, and when he slid from the bed he flinched as Dimitri reached for his arm. “Dimitri, you know you're stronger than me,” he said, taking a step away before facing the alpha. “And you’re in rut, and--different.” 

He felt his stomach drop now that he was being forced to confront the truth, that Dimitri was different because Byleth wasn’t here for him, because he hadn’t been strong enough to come back sooner. “And until I can trust that you can control your strength--until I can trust that you won't hurt me--then yes, we need to play these ‘stupid games.’ If that’s not what you want, then maybe I shouldn't--”

“You think I would _hurt_ you?” Dimitri said, trailing off. His scent grew sour from distress; it was a different kind of distress than he gave off whenever Byleth approached him in the cathedral during the day and he would snarl for Byleth to go away.

“I don’t think you would want to.” Byleth reached an arm out, tentatively wrapping it around Dimitri’s broad shoulders. He waited to see if Dimitri would reject the touch before bringing him close with both arms. He felt goosebumps break out across the alpha’s skin. “Sorry...I must feel like ice.”

Dimitri let his head rest in the crook of Byleth’s shoulder. He didn’t reject the touch, nor did he reciprocate it. He seemed to instead surrender, so when Byleth pushed him down on his back he went without resistance. 

The bitterness in his scent ebbed away when Byleth nosed along his throat, just enough that he could make out the crude soap from their bath earlier, and the faint notes of mahaleb in his natural scent. He let out a small whine when Dimitri cupped his ass in one large hand and squeezed possessively.

“I do trust you,” Byleth said, comfortable with Dimitri’s solid weight beneath him. “Just remember to stop, if I say ‘kyphon.’ That’s all I ask.”

“...You also said not to mark you on your face or neck. I will try to--I will make sure not to do that again.”

“Good.”  


\-----

  
The cuffs were made of leather, so worn from use that they were a bit too loose around Byleth’s ankles to give him the illusion of truly being confined. Before letting Dimitri cuff him, he’d set one of the thick goosefeather pillows down and settled on top of it so it was against his lower abdomen and raised his hips. As Dimitri tightened the second cuff, he pulled another pillow under his chest and wrapped his arms around it. It was saturated with Dimitri’s scent from when he’d been sleeping earlier, had a calming, almost drowsy effect on Byleth.

He blinked hard, and looked over his shoulder. Dimitri was waiting patiently on his knees--or as patiently as he could with his cock erect and his rut back at its peak. He wouldn’t meet Byleth’s eyes, as he was too focused on Byleth’s ass. His hands were shaking where he kept them pressed against the top of his thighs, curling and uncurling into fists as he waited for permission.

Byleth shook his ass, stifling a chuckle when he saw Dimitri’s lip curl at the teasing. “You did such a nice job cleaning me up earlier, Dimitri. It would be such a shame to let you make another mess so soon. Don’t you think so?”

“No. No, sir.”

Byleth snaked a hand underneath him until he could rub at his labia. He arched his back so Dimitri could see what he was doing. “You’ll have to get me wet again, in that case.”

Dimitri snatched up the new vial of oil and popped the top off. Byleth waited until he started to tilt the vial over him, then said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“...Getting you...wet, sir?” Dimitri held the vial upright, though not before a short viscous stream dripped down on Byleth’s ass. He hissed as the cold oil oozed down from his ass to his inner thighs.

“It’s not like you to take the easy way out, Dimitri.” Byleth spread his lips, shivering as his cold fingers made contact with the warmth of his cunt. “If you want to cream my pussy again, you have to work for it--”

The vial shattered in Dimitri’s hand. Blood and oil dripped down his arm and onto the white sheets.

"Dimitri!" Byleth made to sit up, only to be stopped when Dimitri pushed down on his back with his uninjured hand, his movement calm rather than rough. Byleth had to watch, transfixed, over his shoulder as Dimitri licked along his forearm. 

“Cut that out,” he said, trying to sound as concerned as he felt, only for it to come out as a breathless gasp. The tang of blood got to him in a way that not even Dimitri's pheromones had. “Clean the wound, then let me look at it.”

The bed creaked as Dimitri left to obey. Byleth considered burning through the cuffs so he could tend to the alpha's wound immediately, and had to fight to settle himself down, and trust that Dimitri would do as he said. So all he could do was crane his neck and watch as Dimitri washed the blood and oil off his arm and hand in the basin, then wrap it in a towel to dry. Blood and water soaked through the cotton as he returned to the bed.

He stood quietly with his arm outstretched while Byleth unwrapped the towel and took his hand in both of his own. Shards of glass were embedded into the lacerations, blood welling around them, and Professor Manuela would certainly scold him for not following proper procedure. 

For him, at least, there was no need for tweezers or sutures. Sothis's powers had changed his magic in such a way that, on a small scale at least, he could essentially bend reality to his will. Light built up between his palms and before his eyes the wound did not heal, but reverse--the glass shards disappeared and the cuts closed up, leaving no scars because now there had never been cuts to begin with.

He circled a finger around Dimitri's palm when he was finished, wondering if Dimitri would even notice the difference between healing and what Byleth had done. He turned Dimitri's hand over and grazed the knuckles with his teeth. “Honestly,” he murmured, “don’t be so rash. You'll have plenty of chances to knot me before your rut ends."

“You were never so...vulgar about it in the past,” Dimitri said, appending his words with a quick “sir” when Byleth raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, when we first slept together, your idea of what constituted as vulgar was much tamer.” Seeing Dimitri flustered was always endearing, though he’d never accidentally hurt himself the first time he heard Byleth say _pussy_ or _tits_. “I’ll stop teasing you for now, then. Look how hard you are. I didn’t know you were such a masochist.”

“I’m not,” Dimitri mumbled, jerking his arm away and pointedly holding the towel so it blocked Byleth’s view of his tumescent cock.

“Talking back, are we?”

“I’m not. Sir.”

Despite his protests, Dimitri was flushing from his face down to his shoulders and chest, the pale skin between his scars growing pink to almost crimson. In some ways--in enough ways--he was still the same Dimitri that Byleth had fallen in love with before the siege of Garreg Mach.

“Well, if you’re not a masochist, then you should have no issue figuring out how to make me come on all your own, hm?” Byleth sucked on three of his fingers, until they were sopping wet, then pulled away the towel and ran one finger up the underside of Dimitri’s shaft. “Don’t give me that look, Dimitri. I told you, you have to work for your reward.”

He flicked the head of Dimitri’s cock and withdrew his hand, curling his arms under the pillow and bracing himself on his elbows. Dimitri’s fingers twitched, as if he was deliberating whether or not to stroke himself off. 

“Don’t forget you only have one demerit left before you get punished again,” Byleth said, with a slight yawn. “So? What will it be?”

“Are you--” Dimitri’s voice was thick, and he stopped to clear his throat before continuing, “are you giving me a choice, sir?”

“If that’s how you want to see it. I won’t stop you if you want to stroke yourself off, but you’ll still be punished for it afterward.” Byleth felt himself slick up at the thought, and pushed a finger inside of himself with an exaggerated gasp. “Or, you can be patient and figure out how to please me. So go on, Dimitri. Choose.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say about this chapter other than "treat urself" @ Dimitri

With the window closed, rut pheromones saturated the room so heavily that soon Byleth could no longer smell the clean linen of his shirt. He buried his nose against the pillow, finding no respite there either. He breathed in and out with short, shallow gasps, waiting to see what move DImitri would make.

When Dimitri returned to his position behind Byleth on the bed and placed his warm, shaking hands on the omega’s ass, at first Byleth felt more disappointment than relief, before he pushed through the distraction thought. He should be encouraging Dimitri’s choice to do as he was told--that was what Byleth needed to do, for both of their sakes. And it was what he should _want_ to do.

Dimitri spread Byleth’s slick cheeks apart with a rough motion and did nothing else, presumably glaring down at them as if studying a difficult passage in a book. Whether the sight of Byleth’s cunt, dripping with arousal and waiting to be fucked, served to frustrate or motivate the prince, Byleth wouldn’t bother to guess. He rested his chin on his arms and stared ahead at the grain of the headboard. The oil from earlier left damp spots on the pillow under his his, sticking against him and itching as it dried. He stayed still, not wanting any movement to sway Dimitri’s decision in either direction. 

The selfish part of him wanted his alpha to mount him without a second more of hesitation or thought. The rational part of him--the part Byleth needed to listen to even as it got harder with every moment he spent engulfed by rut pheromones--wanted Dimitri to succeed at the task at hand. Byleth would get an orgasm either way, so why couldn’t his base instincts at least settle for that?

“Professor--” Dimitri’s voice was husky. Byleth thought he was going to ask a question, perhaps to inquire further about the conditions of his task. He yelped when instead he felt teeth sink into the flesh of his right buttock. As he flinched, hips jerking off the pillow in surprise, Dimitri kissed a slow trail up the bumps of Byleth’s spine. Whether he intended it or not, or was even aware of it, the behavior was a classic alpha response to omegan lordosis, spurred by the position Byleth was forced to take due to the cuffs. The reflex to raise his hips up higher in response was insurmountable, especially when Dimitri’s hands brushed the sides of his waist.

Dimitri settled on top of him. Byleth felt the alpha’s fat cock rub between his legs until it grazed against his clit. “Mmm,” he sighed, then took in a steady, difficult breath as the weight of Dimitri's extra muscle threatened to crush him. Dimitri moved only his hips, rubbing against the lips of Byleth's cunt while keeping him trapped in place. "A-aah . . . Dimitri . . ."

“You like this,” he heard Dimitri mutter, voice still rough. “You like it better than using your fingers.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes, sir. I--I remember. From before.” Whatever Dimitri recalled, it spurred him to move more aggressively. He slid an arm under Byleth’s torso, crossing it under his chest to grab the opposite shoulder and pull him back against the relentless grinding of his hips. Goddess, he was huge. His muscles were firm and sweaty from all the effort he was exerting to please Byleth while keeping his own desire in check. Byleth let out an airy moan, feeling his slick gush onto Dimitri’s cock. He focused on the size of it, the feel of the veins, the length as the head nearly poked beneath his navel a time or two.

“I won’t give you points for effort, Dimitri,” Byleth said, struggling only a little to remain composed, because as nice as this felt, it was far from being able to make him come. He rubbed down against Dimitri’s cock, quickly taking back the sense of control he'd let the alpha enjoy so far. “You’re so hard, one might think you intend to pleasure yourself before me after all.”

Dimitri snapped at his ear, nicking the lobe hard enough to sting. He let go of Byleth’s shoulder to cup one of his tits, squeezing hard, the calluses on his fingers rough against the sensitive areola. Byleth’s feet tugged uselessly against their cuffs in response. Mine, he could imagine Dimitri thinking; the implicit possessiveness was endearing. He wanted Dimitri to want him again, to want to please him and confide in him as before.

He moaned louder when Dimitri pushed two fingers into him, crooking them downward as if in search of something. Byleth had been in this position before, only the first time Dimitri had to be coached on where to rub against Byleth’s inner walls, flushed red from ear to ear and too embarrassed to raise his head as he listened to his instructions.

Dimitri’s thrusts, with his fingers and his cock, quickly grew more impatient, his frustration at remembering what to do but not quite how to do it working him up into a temper. Byleth clenched around him, squeezing his fingers until Dimitri had to stop. Byleth said nothing. He waited until the alpha’s breathing calmed down, then relaxed.

Dimitri pulled away, grabbing Byleth by the hips and turning him over on his back. Byleth kept his feet flat against the mattress and bent his knees, the shackles clanking against the metal bar as he moved. The bar kept him from being able to touch his knees together, if he was so inclined. He never felt embarrassed during sex and rarely felt like pretending to be for his partner’s pleasure, though he now tried to do so, forcing Dimitri to slow down and handle him more carefully. Byleth quite enjoyed rough handling, and was himself impatient for Dimitri to prove that he could control his strength no matter how far into rut he sank.

The alpha made quite a menacing sight, looming over Byleth with a wild look in his eye and disheveled hair hanging down to his scarred shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his elbow to the right side of Byleth’s pillow. He brushed a kiss against Byleth’s lips, and another when the omega opened his mouth, only to bite at his lower lip. With his other hand he rubbed at Byleth’s clit with his thumb, pressing his middle finger inside and quickly following with his ring finger. 

He was testing Byleth one sensation at a time, trying to see what to add or take away, what got a reaction and what made no difference. And all the while his cock throbbed against Byleth’s stomach, hot and heavy and neglected. Dimitri was no longer rubbing against him now, even as fat drops of precum swelled and dripped from his erubescent glans.

"Ohh, I like that," Byleth whispered against Dimitri’s lips.

"What do you like? This?" Dimitri asked roughly, shoving in his fingers with less consideration. He stopped when Byleth’s nails dug into his cheek and stared down at him, blue eye wide. “No? What, then?”

Byleth raised his hips, grinding against Dimitri’s cock with his clit for a brief moment before settling back against the pillow. Dimitri’s cock bounced up against his abdomen, the movement heavy from the weight. He groaned helplessly, his entire arm tightening as he shoved his fingers in roughly once more. “Don’t,” was all he managed to snap when Byleth raised his hips off the pillow again from the unrelenting force of his thrusts.

He was rubbing against all the wrong places; the only thing so far that might make Byleth come was the sheer thickness of Dimitri’s fingers, though it would be a sad orgasm on its own. Byleth would have to honor it--it was his own fault for not specifying how pleasurable an orgasm he wanted Dimitri to give him. He hugged around Dimitri’s shoulders and neck, pressing his nose against the scent gland on the side of his throat and taking in the dizzying rush of rut pheromones.

“Professor--” Dimitri grunted, squeezing his little finger in with the fresh wave of slick oozing from Byleth’s cunt. Normally it would hurt too much to fit, and only because of their knotting earlier and the rut pheromones was Byleth relaxed and wet enough to take it, even if Dimitri’s fingers were crowded awkwardly against each other. What little finesse he started out with was gone as he panted against Byleth’s collar bones, holding Byleth down with his free arm as he tried to push back further into his cunt.

While the stretch caused him little pain, Byleth snapped at him anyway to make a point, and bared his teeth for good measure when Dimitri raised his head, startled. He pulled his hand back, and after a moment of difficulty removed his little finger.

“Keep going,” Byleth urged when Dimitri remained still, hesitant to keep going. Tentatively, Dimitri pressed up in one spot, and again in another, resuming his search for where Byleth showed him so many years ago.

When it got little response other than a curl of Byleth’s toes, he swore in frustration, and pulled all of his fingers out. They were so soaked in slick that Byleth wasn’t surprised when Dimitri stuck them in his own mouth and licked across them, and only seemed to realize what he’d done after a beat. He yanked his hand away and gripped the sheets by Byleth’s waist, as if to surreptitiously wipe them clean.

While Dimitri had a hard time keeping his strength in check, he had an even harder time making displays of sexuality proudly; without his rut to guide him on sheer instinct, he must be even more repressive of his own desires. 

Eschewing another fruitless attempt at fingering, Dimitri reached behind him, to feel blindly at the array of supplies Byleth left on the bed, unwilling to break his gaze from Byleth for too long. Once he decided on something he only looked back at it the same time as Byleth did.

"Is this--" Dimitri stumbled over his words.

"Yes, that’s a riding crop." 

Byleth pushed his fingers through the sweaty locks of hair at Dimitri’s temple, feeling how his pulse increased even after he dropped the riding crop and began cautiously searching for something else. A smart choice--it was still only their first night, after all. Byleth wouldn’t be able to concentrate to his best ability from here on with a sore, bruised bottom. Truly, the thought was what counted; simply the mental image of the possibility of Byleth being smacked across a pale cheek by the crop was having an obvious effect on the alpha, even if he was determined not to acknowledge it.

“And this?” Dimitri asked shortly, holding up a thin metal chain, so short it would barely fit around a slim wrist. He brought it up closer to the right side of his face, inspecting it in confusion. There were four pea-sized stones attached to the chain, two on each side. “Jewelry?”

“Lodestones.” Byleth plucked one off each side and rolled them between his finger and thumb. They stuck together firmly. “They’re attracted to each other. Let me show you.”

Byleth separated them with the first knuckle of his index finger and brought his hand to his chest. When he let them go, they tried to cling to each other and caught his nipple in between. The pressure was strong despite their size, squeezing with the force of a hard pinch.

Byleth cupped his breast, fingering at the lodestones. He shifted one away slightly before letting it try to return to its mate, giving his nipple another pinch. Dimitri watched with rapt attention as Byleth plucked the second pair of stones from the chain and let them squeeze his other nipple. 

“Hmm. They feel quite nice,” he said, with no affectation. While he liked the sensation well enough, the true pleasure came from Dimitri’s reaction, just like with the riding crop, like how his scent darkened and his mottled face, neck, and shoulders went just a shade redder.

“They look even better. Sir.” Dimitri bit at the top of one breast, sucking hard, biting again, obviously frustrated.

Byleth laughed softly. “Tell me the truth, Dimitri. What do you honestly think?”

“I . . . don’t . . . like them, sir.”

“Why not?”

Dimitri looked up at Byleth from between his small breasts, one large hand prodding at Byleth’s cunt impatiently. “I can’t . . . suck your nipples like this, sir.”

“You had no desire to suck them earlier. It only bothered you once the option was taken away. Correct?”

Dimitri swallowed hard. “But I--”

“Do you think my body belongs to you, Dimitri?”

“No, sir . . .”

“Is your current task about what _you_ want for my body?”

“You gave me a choice,” Dimitri began to argue, falling silent when Byleth pressed a finger against his lips, more out of consternation than obedience. Byleth could feel the elongated tip of one his canines poking from under his quivering top lip, and knew his alpha was fighting against his self-control much harder than it seemed.

“And I said if you made the wrong choice, you would be punished.” Byleth kept his tone neutral, wanting only to remind Dimitri, not threaten him. Wanting to redirect Dimitri’s frustration, he said in a softer voice, “You’ve been doing so well, Dimitri. I’m proud of you.”

The change was immediate, even as Dimitri continued to scowl. His scent grew lighter and more pleasing, and his canines shrank back just a touch enough for Byleth to feel the difference when he ran his thumb against Dimitri’s top lop again.

“That’s better,” he said for extra encouragement, watching without intervention when Dimitri reached for a pair of the lodestones. To his delighted surprise, while Dimitri did remove them, it wasn’t to throw them across the room--he moved them down to Byleth’s clit instead. 

Byleth whimpered gratefully as they tried to pull together, pinching the sensitive nub between them. “Mmmm!" He bit against the sleeve of his shirt, chewing into the linen so he couldn’t blurt an order out before thinking about it.

He grabbed at Dimitri’s hip and yanked him closer, hissing when the blunt glans poked against his slick lips. Words failed him as Dimitri took over, latching onto Byleth’s free nipple with his teeth as he pushed his cock in with one, two slow yet powerful rolls of his hips, still looking for the same spot he’d tried in vain to find earlier. He pulled the nipple, letting it go to circle it with his tongue and tug at it again, his canines growing longer again.

Dimitri grunted as he threw his weight behind another thrust, burying himself deeper in Byleth, pulling back almost imperceptibly before grinding in again. His entire body tensed except for his hips and legs, every sinew and muscle taut against Byleth’s small frame as he fucked him mercilessly.

Dimitri straightened up, hitching Byleth’s hips up and pulling him down to meet his cock. Byleth’s small breasts bounced with every short, rough slam against his body. Dimitri couldn’t stop staring, his gaze clearly transfixed by the teeth marks he’d left around Byleth’s abused areola.

“Look at me,” Byleth pleaded. He reached for Dimitri’s face, grasping until he could claw into part of his neck. “_Alpha_\--hurry, please, I’m _so close_\--”

He missed the exact moment when; all Byleth knew was that when next he looked up to meet Dimitri’s gaze, he saw that the blue of his iris was gone, replaced with a burning scarlet color. His stomach dropped as he realized what he’d said. Had it pushed Dimitri too far?

“Ky--” was all he managed to get out before Dimitri pulled out of him, grabbed the iron bar, and hoisted it up with one hand in a powerful sweep. He thrust back into Byleth immediately, long claws digging deep into the soft flesh of his left thigh to hold him in place. The cuffs jangled wildly as Dimitri pounded into him. Byleth squirmed, feet tugging uselessly against their restraints. Before he could think, Dimitri’s cock finally grazed the spot inside Byleth he’d been looking for. Byleth howled, and that was all the affirmation Dimitri needed. His hand left Byleth’s thigh to press against his abdomen instead, claws scraping beneath his navel as the pad of his thumb rubbed against Byleth’s clit, pushing harder against the lodestones.

Byleth’s legs twisted and yanked, until he was able to press his feet flat against Dimitri’s chest, forcing Dimitri’s rough thrusts to be shorter, though it did nothing to slow him down. His fat cock rammed into Byleth’s cunt without any hesitancy from earlier, hitting the same spot and making Byleth choke up; Dimitri had found what he wanted and wasn’t going to let it go, no matter how much Byleth gasped and writhed beneath him.

“Stop,” Byleth moaned as he felt an unfamiliar pressure mounting in his gut, “Dimitri--that’s enough--I’m--”

He broke off into a scream, hands clenching into the sheets as a violent shudder wracked through his body and his legs spasmed. He felt his eyes roll back, and for several moments his senses were overloaded to the point that he felt nothing, saw nothing. He crashed back into consciousness, chest heaving, feeling strangely empty. The walls of his cunt were squeezing hard around nothing, no knot, no cock--his head lolled as he looked down to see Dimitri’s cock pushed flush against the pink lips of his cunt, rubbing greedily against a spray of fluid. 

Dimitri cursed as he stiffened, cock pulsating, and came in thick spurts. He shoved the head of his cock against Byleth’s entrance, rubbing his release into the omega, and gave a wide, crooked grin. He let go of the bar, and though Byleth’s legs felt limp and unsteady, they remained braced against Dimitri’s broad chest as he leaned down and kissed Byleth’s wet, tear-streaked cheek; Byleth hadn’t even realized he’d begun to cry. When the alpha pulled back, Byleth saw his iris was still burning red.

He stared at Byleth intently, saying nothing, then prodded against his cunt with a low whine. He was hard again? So soon?

“What did you do to me?” Byleth tried to ask, his words slurring so much that he could hardly understand himself. It felt different than slicking up during heat.

“Professor,” Dimitri grunted, like a demand, grinding against him again, still stopping short of entering him.

“Give me a moment to catch my breath, Dimitri,” Byleth said, wincing. He carded his fingers through Dimitri’s sweat-matted hair. Dimitri had done as he was told--he’d made Byleth come, though for the life of him Byleth couldn’t recall a time he’d ever orgasmed like that before. His joints popped as he shifted underneath Dimitri, moving slowly until he was lying on his stomach like earlier. He moved the pillow, now thoroughly wet and debauched, until it sat more comfortably under his abdomen, and jutted back against Dimitri’s cock. “Very well,” he said, bracing himself, “you pass.”

The words weren’t even out of his mouth before Dimitri shoved into him again, humping him desperately, thoughtlessly. Byleth’s breath hitched as every other thrust grazed within him, but he said nothing and gave no direction. He blinked against exhaustion, noticing that the first weak rays of sunlight were beginning to filter across the floor from under the curtain. They’d made it through the first night of Dimitri’s rut, and while Byleth still couldn’t drop his guard, he had no reason not to relax it and let the alpha have his fill.

He hissed when he felt Dimitri’s knot catch within him, much sooner than he was ready for, but it was to be expected during rut. He widened his legs as far as he could with the restraints around his ankles, trying his best to make sure he could accommodate it comfortably. Dimitri threw all of his weight into the last few thrusts, going still again during the tie. He tried to move too soon after, before the knot had begun to go down, causing Byleth to reach back and pinch his earlobe.

“Settle down,” he murmured, feeling Dimitri’s heavy panting against his shoulder. He pushed up on his elbows, straining his neck to press a kiss to the alpha’s temple. The knot tugged inside him, sitting with a heavy, painful, comforting weight. Dimitri yanked at Byleth’s hips, pulling him back into place. “Settle _down_, Dimitri. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dimitri was shivering all over like he had the chills, even though his body temperature was running at its hottest point yet. When the knot went down he didn’t even pull out, just pushed in again, building up to another rhythm, his cock hard again. Byleth knew alphas were insatiable during their ruts, and yet none of his preparations had actually prepared him for Dimitri. Byleth reached underneath himself and spread his fingers around the point where Dimitri’s cock split him open, feeling what a slick, messy wreck the alpha was making of him, and felt a small puff of pride. It had to be the pheromones.

Byleth decided all he could do was let Dimitri burn himself out now that the worst part of his rut had begun. He certainly didn’t seem to be aware enough to listen to any more instructions, which was fine; as long as some part of him remembered what to do if Byleth said "kyphon."

Ah, that reminded him. Byleth moaned against the spot of drool he was making on the pillowcase and clenched his teeth, wishing he could just let go and knowing he couldn’t until he asked Dimitri one final thing. “Dimitri,” he said, “are you listening?”

He got a curt, raspy "Yessir," in response.

“What should you do to get my attention, if you should need it?”

The only reply Byleth got then was the smack of his own ass against Dimitri’s thrusts. Then, just as he was about to say it himself, he felt three taps against his right hip.

“Good,” he said, slumping against the sheets and feeling much better about drifting off to sleep while Dimitri plowed away, “Good boy, alpha.”


	6. Chapter 6

Byleth drifted in and out of a haze of suspended consciousness. He could not go entirely to sleep, nor did he try to. It was imperative that he rest as much as he could while still remaining alert. Even so, he was still shocked when he later stirred fully awake to find that Dimitri was _still_ fucking him with the same vigor as earlier.

Dimitri’s cock was so wet as it rammed into him that it made debauched sounds Byleth never imagined his body was capable of. He touched the side of his throat, relieved to find that even in such a frenzied state, Dimitri kept his word to obey Byleth’s most important rule.

Byleth listened to his breathless grunts and groans for a while, relishing how they increased in pitch and frequency as his hips jerked forward with little consideration. The prince came undone as he knotted Byleth once more. His voice cut off for a long moment as his cock quivered with its release, then crescendoed into a gratified snarl as Byleth squeezed his inner muscles around the knot. He felt uncomfortably full, and still Dimitri filled him further.

The pain in Byleth’s body, from the ache in his hips and ankles to the stinging bites on his shoulder and back, melted away as it was superseded by pleasure. He preened, arching his back and pressing up against Dimitri’s chest, tilting his head and waiting for his alpha to kiss him--

\--then almost jumped out of his skin when three sharp knocks sounded at the door. Dimitri went still as stone over him, managing to push in a touch deeper even with resistance from the knot, and settled there possessively. 

“Professor? It’s me,” came Shamir’s voice, usually flat and calm, now tense with concern. “You missed our check-in at noon. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I--I'm fine!” Byleth’s voice cracked in such a telltale way that it would be obvious he was in the middle of being fucked. He tried to move forward, away from the heaviness and heat of Dimitri’s embrace. Dimitri roughly pulled him back into place, his cock jabbing against a deep part of Byleth that hurt. The pillow muffled his squeal enough that Shamir had no cause to kick down the door to see what was the matter. He bit into the soft give of the pillow long enough for his cheeks to go numb, then let go when he was sure enough time had passed for Shamir to leave.

Byleth felt Dimitri grip each of his hands, spreading them up toward the headboard and giving him no way to hold up his own weight. He wanted to reach back and hold onto Dimitri's neck or waist or leg, whatever part of him he could touch first, and struggled though he knew it was useless. Dimitri's hands were larger and rougher than he remembered, scarred across the knuckles and callused on the palms. Byleth licked along the inside of his left wrist, stimulating the scent gland there, and was satisfied to feel the renewed throb of his alpha's girth inside him.

"Calm down, Dimitri," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Dimitri gasped against the side of his neck, the tip of his nose pressed against Byleth's jugular. His hands tightened, fingers curling through the gaps between Byleth's fingers, thick green veins standing out against his tensor muscles.

The cuffs around Byleth's ankles were starting to chafe. He laid still, not wanting to disturb Dimitri as his rut seemed to be waning for the time being. It could take upwards of an hour to flare up again, or it could be only minutes. Considering the stamina that accompanied the Blaiddyd family strength, Byleth could not count on a long respite. So he moved as little as possible while Dimitri meticulously scent marked him all over, even though his legs were numb and cramping.

"Byleth," he heard Dimitri rasp, just as he felt a rough hand massage against his lower abdomen. The pressure from within and without was overwhelming.

A deeper shudder wracked through his body. He should admonish Dimitri for using his name, which seemed such an unpleasant duty when Dimitri was holding onto him so desperately, clingy as he continued to grind his hips. Even with all Dimitri had given Byleth and taken in turn, he was still insatiably hungry for more.

“No, I--I can’t,” Byleth said, wincing in discomfort when the prince’s large hand kneaded against the lodestones still pinching at his tender nipple. “I can’t give you everything you desire.”

Were Byleth not on a strict regimen of medicinal herbs, he had no doubt that Dimitri’s rut would have triggered a heat the likes of which he could not resist. There would be no rules or boundaries or obligations to separate them then. They could have formed a bond, and Byleth would certainly have been bred before sunrise.

Dimitri would have regretted it, afterward. Such an incident would surely drive them further apart in the aftermath, perhaps beyond reconciliation. No momentary indulgence would have been worth losing the slim chance Byleth had to bring them closer, and maybe regain a little of what they had lost.

Dimitri had no need to worry about any of that right now. And if Byleth carried out his job correctly, he never would. When the war was over and the prince became king, some other omega, more suitable for the task, would give him everything he needed. This was as far as Byleth could allow them to go.

  


\---

  


The sun was dipping below the western mountain ridge when Byleth stumbled onto the balcony across the hall from Lady Rhea's room, clutching the front of his fleece robe. The soft belt of the robe trailed behind him, forgotten in his haste to meet Shamir before he kept her waiting so long that she might decide to kick through the door after all.

She made no specific comment on his appearance, only saying, “There’s no need to be embarrassed around me, Professor. I’ve helped Catherine with her rut enough times to not be surprised by anything.”

“Is that so?” he said, distracted by the wooden tub and three buckets she had brought to the balcony, filled with water so hot that the steam billowed up in the cool air. “What’s this? I don’t recall asking for a bath.”

“You need one,” Shamir said bluntly, so matter-of-fact that Byleth found it impossible to resist when she pulled his robe open and dropped it on the stone bench beside the fish pond. She dipped a towel in the water and held it out for him to wipe himself. “Prince Dimitri will be upset that all his scent marking is disturbed, but believe me, he’ll be more than eager to start fresh and do it all over again. Or at least, that’s what Catherine tells me. I'm a beta so I wouldn't know. Now hurry up before your water gets cold.”

Byleth wiped himself with the wet towel all over, turning his back to Shamir when he moved down to between his legs. He only just remembered to take the lodestones off before he set foot out of the bedroom. The little stones had held each other in place so long that his clit was sore and swollen. He brushed a finger against each to assess the pain. His left nipple was no better off, feeling more tender than the right one and looking redder. He could only hope Shamir would not notice, though the more she avoided commenting on it, the more he knew that she must have.

Truth be told, the most mortifying part of this endeavor when he began making preparations for Dimitri’s rut almost a fortnight ago was the fact that Cyril and Shamir would have to see him like this. There was nothing to be done about it--he could not leave Lady Rhea’s room long enough to fetch meals or other necessary items himself.

Byleth hissed as he lowered himself into the hot water, feeling more scratches and bite marks begin to sting than he noticed earlier. The tub was only big enough for him to sit with his knees held to his chest, and the water only came halfway up his torso. He took the bar of soap Shamir handed him and scrubbed himself all over, then covered his eyes when she dumped one of the buckets over him. When he stood, she dumped another bucket over him, catching him by surprise.

“Hah! You look a lot more normal when you’re caught off guard,” she commented, setting the bucket down and handing him a dry towel. He blinked away the water pouring down from his hair. What little his year at the monastery before the war did to make him seem more human was apparently undone by his long absence. 

He heard these kinds of comments more now than he did when he first arrived at Garreg Mach, even though he felt emotions more strongly than he did as a child. Did he not express himself well enough? Or did people simply interpret what they wanted to see and hear? That must be it. It seemed a given that in Lady Rhea’s absence, he was the one to whom people put their own fears and desires and prayers. He was an idealized figure, nothing more and certainly nothing less. Certainly not a human being.

“Do I not always look . . . normal?” he asked, though he knew the answer. Of course he didn’t. When his father died, when Sothis merged within his soul and changed him in ways he might never fully know or understand, when the first inkling of war arrived at the gates of the monastery, he knew no one would be fooled into thinking otherwise by his smile ever again.

“No, you really don’t. That's part of your charm, though. We wouldn't have you any other way,” she said. He appreciated her honesty, at least. 

When he was done toweling himself so dry that his skin was pink all over, he pulled his fleece robe around himself once more. “I’m sure you must be hungry. I can bring you dinner in half an hour, if you want.”

“No, there's no need.” Byleth’s stomach felt so empty that whatever hunger he should feel after so much exertion was numb. “Thank you, Shamir.”

“Sure. I’ll clean up everything here. You should hurry back before Prince Dimitri comes looking for you. That won't be fun for either of us."

Feeling more disoriented than refreshed, Byleth crossed the hall and paused outside of Lady Rhea’s door. He was stripped of Dimitri’s scent, smelling only of the faint lavender from the soap. There might be a moment where Dimitri did not recognize him and instead mistook him for an intruder, so Byleth opened the door cautiously, calling out Dimitri’s name as he did so. He got no reply.

The bed was empty.

  


\-----

  


Byleth tried the door handle of the captain’s quarters, and was relieved to find it was locked, as he hoped. At least Dimitri shut himself in here, rather than return to the cathedral smelling of rut and Byleth's slick. Enough lurid gossip about them was already running rampant around the monastery grounds.

As he requested, now that it was sundown the second floor of the building was vacated--except, of course, for Professor Hanneman, who had at least closed his door. Given how absorbed he would get in his research, it was likely that he was completely unaware of the potential danger lurking right down the hall from his office.

Byleth wished he thought to put on his cloak before coming downstairs. The hall was too chilly for his loose, borrowed clothes, and the urge to return to the warmth of their nest clashed with his desire to first retrieve his alpha.

The sound of a door opening directly behind him made Byleth’s stomach drop, as did the loud, surprised exclamation of, “Professor?” followed by a light touch on his shoulder.

Either it escaped Cyril and Shamir’s notice to inform Seteth of the situation, or Seteth was being persistently overprotective, as usual. Contrary to his cold behavior when they first met, in these past few weeks the older alpha fretted over Byleth almost as much as he did Flayn.

“You need to leave,” Byleth hissed, holding up a hand to shush Seteth when he attempted to reply.

“For what reason?” Seteth asked obstinately, though he at least matched Byleth’s hushed tone this time. “There is too much work to be done for me to leave my office. As you can see, the same is true for Professor Hanneman.”

“Professor Hanneman is a beta. You aren’t. If you won’t leave, then keep your door shut and don’t come out until I get Dimitri upstairs.”

Seteth had gone very still, and was staring past Byleth to the door of the captain’s quarters. The scent trail leading down the hall coalesced where Byleth stood, musky and piquant. “What is he doing in there?” Seteth asked, a dark hostile edge creeping into his normally mellow voice. 

Not wanting to deal with a territorial spat, Byleth decided to forego negotiating and pulled Seteth by the back of his robe into his office. He dragged him over to the chair and pushed him down. “Stay,” he said. 

Seteth was so stunned at the brusque command that he did just that, sinking into the hard backed chair as deep as it would allow. Byleth shut the door behind him and leaned against it, bracing himself in case Seteth gathered his wits enough to come nag him a second time. Byleth heard the chair creak when Seteth got up, and the rustle of his robes as he walked around in his office. 

Satisfied that he had resumed his work, and would stay confined rather than try to meddle any further, Byleth knocked on the captain’s door.

“Dimitri, it’s Byleth,” he said, raising his voice when he received no answer. “Please let me in.”

Dimitri’s footsteps were heavy and uneven as he came to the door. He fumbled with the lock, then opened it a crack. The room was darker and colder even than the hall; he had drawn the curtain without lighting a candle or lamp. Dimitri was wearing his breeches and had one of the spare blankets Cyril put in the closet draped over his naked shoulders and torso. 

The prince’s face was chalky white, drained of all the color it had gained during their games. He looked just as gaunt and sickly as he had when Byleth first returned to the monastery.

“Thank you,” Byleth said, trying not to feel disappointment that the progress he thought they made was gone. He knew this would be a long, difficult endeavor. “Will you tell me why you left?” 

Dimitri had not left to come looking for him, that much was obvious. Nor had he brought anything that smelled like Byleth to his new quarters, a little detail that Byleth wished didn't bother him or strike him as odd. Normally an alpha in rut would instinctively want to surround himself with comforting items that reminded him of his partner, not deprive himself by secluding away in an empty, dingy room.

“My head . . .” Dimitri trailed off. “I . . . wanted to be alone for a while.”

Byleth softened his tone. “Okay. I wish that you waited until I returned to the room and told me this before you left. I was worried--”

Ignoring him, Dimitri ducked his head abruptly to scent him along the throat, his own scent darkening in displeasure when he realized Byleth had washed away all the evidence of their mating. Then it went acrid when he scented the shoulder where Seteth touched Byleth for only a few moments. 

“What were you doing with him?” he asked, glaring at Seteth’s door.

“Keeping him away from you!” Byleth said, exasperated. “If you want some time to yourself, I’ll respect that. But promise me you’ll return when your rut hits its peak again. If you don’t, I’ll come back here, and next time I won’t knock. Is that acceptable?”

Dimitri huffed out a raspy, disbelieving laugh, and said nothing else. The door creaked shut, leaving Byleth alone in the dim hall with only the bitter scent of agitation. He returned to the third floor, feeling heavier the more distance he put between them. 

With no other idea of how to pass the time, Byleth decided to collect all his tools and toys on the sette, then stripped the mattress so he could change the sheets. 

Once the bed was in order, Byleth rolled down the sleeves of his tunic and burrowed under the duvet. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in the faint residual rut pheromones swirling in the room. He rubbed his cheek against the sheet, like he did with the shirt last night, and subconsciously began to mark their fresh nest, now that it had been disturbed.

_Their_ nest. Their _nest_. He had to stop thinking of it that way. It was just a bed, in a room that wasn’t his, or theirs, or anyone's now. He declined to bring Dimitri to his actual quarters precisely to ward off distracting sentiments such as this. 

He sat up, head spinning dizzily, and decided he should go ahead and try to coax Dimitri out of the captain’s quarters. He pulled the duvet around himself, growing chillier the more time passed away from Dimitri’s burning body heat, and headed downstairs.

This time the door was unlocked when he tried the handle. He gave a courteous knock anyway before cracking it open to find the desk and couch were pushed against the walls of the office, and the sheet was laid in the middle of the floor. 

Despite clearing up some space as if intending to sleep there on tge floor, Dimitri was huddled on the floor in a corner of the room with his head between his knees. The rut scent was so powerful that Byleth staggered away from the door a few steps, overwhelmed by the palpable feeling that he was unwelcome. Dimitri had left the door unlocked, however, and Byleth had to take that as a sign that whatever Dimitri felt right now in the moment, earlier he must have planned to have Byleth's assistance when he returned.

“Are you feeling any better?” Byleth asked, seeing quite clearly that the answer was no. He shrugged off the duvet as he approached Dimitri, dropping to his knees as he settled the warm cover around the prince’s hunched back. Sometimes Dimitri would converse under his breath with dead relatives and fallen soldiers in the cathedral, and parishioners recently complained to Byleth of his habit of threatening violence, not understanding that the threats were not directed at them.

He did not want to upset the delicate trust Dimitri was beginning to put in him again, so that maybe when the rut was done, the next time Byleth found him standing transfixed by the memories or hallucinations that held him hostage, Dimitri would no longer turn him away.

“I got us some fresh sheets.” He reached around, feeling for Dimitri’s throat, and massaged the swollen scent gland with his palm. “Do you want to come with me upstairs to bed? Or would you rather stay here tonight?”

“Here,” Dimitri responded softly. "Sir.”

_Sir_. Until now, Byleth always initiated their games. Thinking back on it, he never made a rule that he was the only one allowed to do so.

“Very well," he said. "Tell me the rules.”

“Do not touch you without permission. Do not touch myself without permission. Do not come without permission. Do not mark you on your throat.” Dimitri listed them off in a dull monotone, raising his head as he spoke.

Byleth stood up. “Turn around, on your knees. Let me look at you.”


End file.
